


Late Bloomer

by Frilly_Axolotl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alpha Katsuki Yuuri, Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Bonding, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, No mpreg, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Romance, Rutting, Scenting, Sex, also some angst, brief mention of bad dragon in chapter one, brief mentions of drugs and drug-related death, brief mentions of past abuse/child abuse, but it exists in universe, lots of fun as you can imagine, presenting is kinda like a sudden second puberty, see individual chapter tags!, this will be silly and fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-04-07 16:45:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14085228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frilly_Axolotl/pseuds/Frilly_Axolotl
Summary: Everybody assumed Otabek Altin was a Beta. So did Otabek. After all, he's twenty-one and he hasn't presented. Nobody thought twice about leaving him alone with Yuri for the night, when Yuri was so close to his next heat.A story in which bad timing begets two boys pining terribly for each other, and Otabek curses his confused biology.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, it's an A/B/O fic. I can't resist a good bandwagon. This story will be a LOT lighter than Six Kinds of Love, for sure. As you can see, there are no archive warnings, nor any other warnings in the tags! Prepare yourselves for something light and fluffy :D With an appropriate amount of angst.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Yuuri are going clubbing! Yuri is enlisted to look after Makkachin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one is a go! Updates will be sporadic as all of heck ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Here there be dragons...or...mentions of dragons. ENJOY :D

Yuri loves figure-skating. It’s his whole life – his career, his hobby, his lifestyle in general. It’s where he met most of the people he knows (he’s hesitant to call them friends because  _ surely  _ friends don’t piss each other off so much?). It’s where he spends more than half of his time.

Off-season, however, is a thing of beauty. There’s still some kind of diet he’s supposed to follow, but fuck Yakov to be honest, Yuri isn’t a child anymore, and if he wants to eat the entire bag of Doritos to himself, he’ll do it! He’ll eat, like, three apples tomorrow to make up for it. He’ll even blend together one of Viktor’s gross green smoothies and do a workout in the spacious apartment living room.

Off-season brings with it the chance for everyone to relax. The weather is hot, the sun is shining, and everyone seems determined to get as burnt as possible while it lasts. Yuri’s cheeks are pink from his day out, and a little uncomfortable to touch, but he has a bottle of some aloe vera after-sun balm Beka gave to him earlier. Beka doesn’t  _ need  _ it. His skin is vaguely brown most of the time, but in summer he apparently darkens into some naturally bronzed teenage heartthrob. It makes Yuri wonder why he’s even carrying it.

At some point, Yuri needs to fly in to Moscow to visit his grandpa. With how irritable Yuri’s been lately, and with Viktor’s completely unabashed comments about his smell, he knows he’s due to go into heat. Probably next week. He doesn’t really keep track during off-season. He’d rather be at home for it though, and not stuck here in Viktor’s apartment that hasn’t been heat-proofed. Both Viktor and Yuuri are alphas, so of course they don’t  _ need  _ to heat-proof the place. Yuri thinks that’s selfish of both the bastards. What if his own heat comes early? What will they do then? What if there’s an emergency one day? 

Not that he doesn’t trust them. He’s been caught short on more than one occasion even before the pair of lovesick morons were married and mated, even before they met each other. The first time, Yuri was only eleven. It was his second heat since he presented, and he was unfamiliar with the warning signs, not to mention his cycle was irregular and no one around him thought to say “hey, defenceless kid, it smells like you should be at home”. He stepped off the ice to get a drink of water, feeling a little feverish and sweaty – and not in the sense that he’d just run through a brutal routine – when it hit him full-force. It was so sudden and intense that he collapsed to the ground. 

Viktor was the first one to his aid that day. He was reassuring and kind, gentle and careful as he drove Yuri to the nearest omega hotel where he was protected and cared for. Yuri screamed at him to fuck off and stop butting in when Viktor came to check on him three days later, having not been allowed in the first two days.

He found himself caught in Japan too. He was older then. Fifteen. Far more aware of what an aggressive alpha might do to him in that state. It was only a few days after he took off to follow Viktor. 

He still remembers the smells in the hot springs. Yuuri and Viktor, both potent alphas. Yuuri’s sister, an abrasive one. Yuuri’s father too, and more than a couple of the other patrons. It hit him suddenly then too. He put his pre-heat down to how annoyed he was in general at Viktor, and how hot it was in the baths. He ran the second his heat hit, not sure where to go, but pretty certain he had to get somewhere that wasn’t the inn considering how easily scents seemed to travel in there. And while running, nothing but a small towel around his waist and a robe that wasn’t yet on properly, he crashed right into Yuuri who was carrying a tray of food. Of course the food went everywhere, and Yuri didn’t quite understand who he was dealing with at that point. He shouldn’t have feared, though. Yuuri simply smiled at him, and showed him to a wing in the inn with heat-proof rooms.

Honestly, neither of them have ever appeared too affected by his scent, even right at the peak of his heats. They clearly still smell it, and it blows their pupils wide, but that’s the extent of it. A basic, uncontrollable reaction. He wonders if it’s because of how gay they are for each other. Gross. Two alpha males, totally in love and married. That’s not just gay, it’s like, double-gay.

Yes, Yuri does trust them, but he would still rather be home for his heat. There’s nothing more humiliating than going through three to seven days of an intense biological need for sex – sounds, secretions, scents, and all – in their guest room. With Makkachin scratching at the door.

He’s agreed to stay two more days here. Tonight, to look after Makkachin while the pair of them go out (Makkachin is a very old dog, and Viktor is paranoid even though Yuri’s convinced the old girl is immortal), and tomorrow just to relax. Not to mention Beka flew in from Kazakhstan three days ago, and he’d secretly love to spend a lot more time with his friend.

Yuri keeps his crush on Beka a secret. He’s not so sure what to make of these feelings. Beka’s always given him the impression that he’s that nice to  _ everyone _ anyway, so Yuri tries not to let himself feel special when the beta absently touches him in some way or another. Besides, Beka – as far as Yuri knows – doesn’t even know he’s an omega. He might not be into that. Yuri would rather live without the disappointment.

It’s seven o’clock on the dot when Viktor steps out of his bedroom dressed in something a little slutty and a lot sparkly. The low neckline shows off the silvery bite mark over the scent gland on his neck. He makes a show of it too, sashaying into the living room like a model and posing for dramatic effect. Yuri scowls, Otabek laughs on the couch beside him, and Yuuri steps out after his mate looking flustered. Tonight looks like it’s going to be a gay bar kind of night.

“Yuuri won’t let me put the glittery silver eyeshadow on him!” Viktor whines.

“It’d clash with your ugly grey hair anyway,” Yuri says snidely.

Viktor positively wails. He’s probably had a couple of shots already. Isn’t thirty too old to be going out clubbing?

“Yurio! I would never say something so cruel about  _ you _ ! Why do you hurt me?”

“There’s nothing bad to say about me, I’m gorgeous,” Yuri replies flippantly, catching Otabek’s dark eyes on him and telling himself that expression is totally platonic. “When I’m old, my hair will turn  _ white  _ anyway, not grey. I’ll look like Daenerys Targaryen, not some creepy perv chasing after chubby Japanese boys.”

“Ugly, grey-haired, and  _ old _ ! Yuuri, can you believe the nerve of these young people?”

Yuuri is ignoring him in favour of lining his eyes with black kohl. Yuri sticks his tongue out at Viktor. The silver-haired man narrows his eyes and smirks suddenly.

“Not that it matters if you look like Dany when you’re old, Yurio,” he says, forcibly casual. “My Yuuri’s the  _ real  _ queen of  _ bad drago- _ ”

“ _ Okay! _ ” Yuri shouts. Anything so that Viktor doesn’t finish that fucking sentence. God, he’s disgusting.

“Viktor!” Yuuri gasps, staring at said alpha with wide eyes and a deep blush spreading all the way to his ears. The damage has been done. Yuuri’s embarrassment is thick in the air, cloying and kind of onion-y. Maybe he’s actually just sweating a lot. It’s hard to tell. Pre-heat makes  _ all  _ smells stronger, not just people’s secondary gender scents.

“What?” Viktor asks. He’s the picture of feigned innocence. “Yurio is an adult, I think it’s time we taught him about-”

“Not like  _ that _ !” Yuuri exclaims, while Yuri jumps to his feet and yells out, “I know how sex works, you fuckin’ moron, stop being disgusting, I don’t want to hear about your nasty bedroom shenanigans, shouldn’t you two be out already? I-”

“How do you know what bad dragon is anyway, Yurio?” Viktor goes on.

Yuri splutters and flails. Maybe  _ he’s  _ the onion-y thing he’s smelling. 

Beka is chuckling animatedly on the sofa, but Yuri can’t stop his own blush creeping across his cheeks. He hopes the ground will just open and save him. Why does that old fart always have to embarrass him?  _ How  _ does he always manage to embarrass him?

“Don’t worry, Yurio, we’re leaving right now!” Yuuri says over the laughter of Otabek and Viktor. He thrusts a jacket at Viktor and starts ushering him to the door. “I left the number of the club by the phone in case you need anything and you can’t reach our cells. And there’s leftover stew in the fridge. Makkachin’s treats are by the cookie jar, but don’t give her too many or she’ll get sick. And Otabek, I made sure to wash the spare blankets and pillows, they’re in the-”

“Oh, my God, stop fucking mothering us and  _ go _ before Viktor pisses himself,” Yuri grumbles, nodding to where the other Russian is dancing excitedly on his toes. Yeah, he’s  _ definitely  _ had a few drinks already.

Yuuri smiles and hurries to the door. “We’ll be back by four!”

“ _ Poka-Poka _ !” Viktor calls across the room. “Don’t look in the black box under my side of the bed!”

“Get out!”

The door slams, and Yuri realises he’s still standing. He turns carefully to see Otabek stifling laughter on the sofa, Makkachin’s big fluffy head in his lap. Christ, he looks good like that.

“Oh, my God,” Yuri repeats. “Sorry about them, they-”

“Yura, it’s fine,” Beka says warmly. “You know I love Yuuri and Viktor.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . A vicious, hot stab of jealousy in his gut has his face curling into a grimace. Beka doesn’t mean it  _ that way _ . And Yuri doesn’t have a crush on Otabek  _ anyway  _ so it doesn’t even matter. Yuri doesn’t enjoy sitting next to him and smelling his mild, soothing beta scent that wafts every time Beka reaches up to run a hand through his hair. The soothing beta scent that smells a  _ lot  _ stronger in his pre-heat. Yuri doesn’t edge closer and initiate contact on purpose.

Not at all. Never. Nope.

“I think it’s sweet,” Beka goes on. “They’re like your parents.”

Yuri scowls, but there’s no heat behind it. “Yeah, well don’t let  _ them  _ hear you say that.”

He doesn’t know his own parents. Not anymore. He vaguely remembers the blue eyes that belonged to his father; a sexist alpha who hated his mother for being an omega. He doesn’t have a lot of memories of the man, and the things he does remember are too blurry for him to be sure they’re even real. Grandpa has told him his father was a cruel, abusive man who ranted and raved the day Yuri was born - he was a tiny baby, sure to become an pathetic, snivelling omega just like his mother. Good thing the prick’s in jail now. For drug dealing. 

As for his mother: heroin overdose. Dimly, Yuri remembers a funeral service. More clearly, he remembers sitting outside a locked bathroom door, knocking politely and telling Mama he’s going to pee his pants if she doesn’t hurry up. It wasn’t until the next morning that Grandpa showed up. The rest is murky and confusing.

It’s not that he  _ misses  _ his parents. He can’t even remember enough about them to miss them. But he does kind of resent the fact that they’re not here now. Doesn’t matter anyway. Beka makes an excellent point. Viktor and his pig act like his parents. He’d sooner die before he tells them that he recognises and is grateful for that.

“So,” he says to Otabek, “you wanna play videogames or what?”

Beka smirks and straightens up as Yuri crouches by the TV to plug everything in.

“I’ve been practising with my brothers and sisters,” he says, sounding cocky. “Your ass is mine, Yuri Plisetsky.”

Yuri hit his head  _ hard  _ on the glass TV stand, and swore under his breath. Otabek made no comment. He thankfully couldn’t see how red Yuri’s face had gone, nor could he tell that it’d gone so red because of the sudden pang of arousal he felt deep in his abdomen.

He needs to  _ stop  _ that. Otabek is hot, but they so can’t go there. Never ever. He’s just going to play videogames with his friend all night. And  _ not  _ think about his ass belonging to anyone.

It turns out Otabek  _ has  _ been practising, though, and after three losses in a row, Yuri throws his controller and gives up, opting instead to sift through YouTube with Beka sat next to him and Makkachin cuddling up on the sofa. He can feel that his cheeks are a little warm, and there’s a mild cramping in his lower back.

“Where are you headed once I go back to Moscow?” Yuri asks while Vine compilations play on the TV. “Home?”

“JJ’s vacationing in Italy with Izzy.” Yuri sneers at the nickname. JJ is an asshole and his mate is a bitch. How Otabek can be friends with them is beyond him. “I’m heading down there and we’re meeting up with the Crispinos.”

“Since when are you friends with those incest-y weirdos?”

“Izzy’s friends with Sara, and they’re not  _ incest-y _ , they’re just-”

“You can’t convince me otherwise,” Yuri interrupts. “Michele’s got a  _ weird  _ thing for his sister.”

“He’s protective,” Otabek says with a chuckle. “Alpha-Omega twins are rare, it’s probably just instinct because she’s an omega.”

“Omegas don’t need creepy alphas to protect them,” Yuri spits out.

“Of course not, I’m just saying that there’s probably something biological at play.”

“Yeah, they’re related and he wants to f-”

“ _ Yuri _ !” But Beka is laughing as he pushes him off the sofa. 

There’s a muted thud as he hits the rug on the floor, and Makkachin leaps off the sofa, snuffling around Yuri’s face and making him giggle. He pushes the mutt off.

“Just ‘cause you did that, you’re not getting any of Katsuki’s leftover stew. You could have seriously injured the greatest figure skater in the world, you know.”

“Oh, you’re right, I think I sprained my wrist a little.”

Yuri grabs the nearest sofa cushion and hurls it at Beka’s face.

They eat the leftover stew from the fridge, sneakily giving the bowls to Makkachin to lick clean, and get through a whole season of  _ Criminal Minds _ before Yuri is starting to feel tired. On a normal day, he can party all night without a problem, but pre-heat always makes him tire easier. And he’s feeling uncomfortably warm after setting up Beka on the couch, that cramping still present in his lower back.

“Hey, let’s walk the mutt quickly before bed,” he grumbles to Otabek as he slips his shoes on and clips Makkachin’s leash to her collar.

“You okay?” Otabek asks him.

He ceases rubbing his lower back, instead grabbing one of the little plastic bags for whatever mess Makkachin’s going to make outside. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Just achy from my bad posture.”

He reasons that he’s not technically lying to Beka about his secondary gender. Very few people know. Viktor and Yuuri due to unfortunate accidents, Yakov because he kind of has to know, Mila because she has the nose of a bloodhound, and Georgi seeing as he’s an omega himself. And a whiny one at that. 

It’s not that Yuri doesn’t trust his best friend, it’s just that it’s been over three years since they’ve known each other. Suddenly blurting it out would be weird. For now, he’ll keep it to himself. If it comes up in conversation...well, great. That’s one less thing to be careful about.

Yuri audibly yelps when Otabek’s hand, large and warm, presses against his lower back. Not out of fright or discomfort, but because it soothes the soothes the ache there, and why the actual fuck do his knees go a little weak? Otabek shouldn’t be touching him anyway. The lower back is an intimate place, right? He sees Viktor touching his chubby boyfriend there all the time.

“Oh, sorry, I-” Otabek starts, a wide-eyed look on his face that says ‘I didn’t realise that wasn’t allowed’. Yuri wants to grab his hand and place it right back where it was.

“Your hand was cold!” Yuri snaps, realising immediately afterward that Otabek’s skin was separated from his by two layers of clothing.

To his credit, Otabek says nothing as the pair of them head out of Viktor’s apartment and down into the street. There’s a slight chill in the air that makes him walk closer to Beka than is necessary. Again, Beka says nothing.

They don’t walk far - only across the street where there’s a park with plenty of grassy areas for Makkachin to do her business. 

There are people in the park. Clearly adults, or older teenager, and clearly a little drunk. They’re loud and boisterous, and one of them calls out “oh, a doggy!”. And for some reason, Otabek is glaring at them. The taller man shuffles until he’s directly in Yuri’s line of vision, touching Yuri’s back again, though he touches much higher than before.

Yuri raises a brow at him.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?”

Otabek blinks. “What?”

“You totally just acted like an alpha,” Yuri snorts. “In front of  _ them _ . This is a nice neighbourhood, Beka, and those people are more interested in Makkachin than in us. So could I get some breathing space?”

Otabek glances down between them, and seems to realise quite suddenly that he’s practically pinning Yuri to the wrought-iron fence. He jumps back, cheeks darkening in the lamplight.

“Sorry, I...I have no idea why I did that,” he says with an awkward chuckle.

Yuri laughs too. “You don’t think I could kick their asses? You think just because I haven’t grown since I was fifteen I can’t flatten every single one of them? Look at my face. Look at these  _ legs _ .” Yuri kick his leg up, not that anything can be seen through his pyjamas. “These legs could break a man’s neck, Beka.”

Otabek’s embarrassment is gone, and he’s laughing along with Yuri animatedly now. 

“Makkachin too,” Yuri adds when she ambles closer, tail wagging. “She’d just bite them all, wouldn’t you, mongrel? With your big sharp  _ beast  _ teeth.”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Otabek says.

“I don’t think you do, Otabek. I’ll kick  _ your  _ ass right here, right now.”

“Sounds like it’s past a cranky someone’s bedtime.”

“Don’t you fucking  _ dare  _ start sounding like Katsudon and that old man, I’ll terminate this friendship and start hanging out with those drunk guys.”

Laughing together is as easy as breathing, and it leaves him feeling refreshed with a pink tinge to his cheeks. Honestly, fuck Otabek for managing to do that to him. But then again, he doesn’t even mind as he picks up Makkachin’s mess and tosses it in the designated trash bin.

Otabek bumps him playfully as they head back to the apartment.

Yuri curls up in the guest room with Makkachin when they get in, any discomfort from his pre-heat gone, but decidedly warmer than he was earlier. He tells himself it’s  _ not  _ because Otabek is the fucking best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's got Otabek all in a rut...

It’s hot. Stifling. And oh-so-familiar.

When Yuri wakes, the luminous blue numbers on the alarm clock showing the time to be 2:03am, he closes his eyes again immediately. He’s practically baking under the blankets, but he’s so  _ struck  _ by his heat that he finds himself sort of unable to move at first. So he swelters, sweating profusely and notes that he’s never been quite  _ this  _ hot before.

He’s hard in his tacky tiger-print boxers, gross sticky liquid smearing against the front  _ and  _ the back. When he moves slightly, the cooling liquid rubs uncomfortably against his skin. He feels the usual weakness that comes with a heat swirling in his limbs. That ache in his back is the worst thing, though. It’s a distressing level of painful that makes him want to cry.

Groaning, he brings his knees up to his chest but quickly straightens them out again when the movement jostles his tender erection. It’ll go down if he leaves it alone. If he touches it, however, he won’t be able to stop. Not for a while, anyway.

He takes deep, calming breaths, just like the meditation app on his phone taught him. Relax. That’s all he has to do. Once the problem between his legs abates, he’ll be able to stand up and get himself to the bathroom for a cold shower that’ll soothe away eighty percent of his hurts.

He shifts again after a few moments, grumbling when he realises Makkachin is pressed right up against his back, which doesn’t help with the temperature. With a small whine of discomfort and a whispered “piss off, mongrel”, he reaches for his phone to text Viktor and Yuuri. And he’ll have to think about what he’s going to tell Otabek.

Oh, God. Otabek.

And suddenly the  _ smell _ hits him. It reminds him a little of Otabek’s mellow scent. But this is different. Intense, vaguely musky,  _ distinctly  _ alpha. Rutting alpha. He’s never smelled rutting alpha before, but his instincts know it well. How he missed it before...

Yuri panics. 

That body behind him isn’t Makkachin. 

It’s an alpha. An alpha who is pawing at him over the sheets, grunting, breathing hard in his ear. He screams unabashedly, scrambling away from the larger body and getting twisted in the blankets as he does. He doesn’t care that he tumbles clumsily to the floor with a loud thud nor that his shoulder throbs painfully right after. Otabek will hear him. Yuri can explain it all later. Beka will understand. Right now, he needs to get this rutting stranger away from him.

He scrambles away from the bed wildly, but his shoulder kills. His arm won’t hold his weight. And he’s kind of boneless from the intensity of the heat wracking his body. He can’t get up.

The alpha is on his feet now, advancing in the dark. Yuri isn’t fool enough to launch his phone, but he reaches in the dark for anything and finds a wire. He tugs. It turns out to be a lamp, and he swings it around at the alpha. It misses by a mile, clattering instead against the wall when the cable yanks against the socket. The alpha growls nonetheless, and Yuri’s instincts  _ scream  _ at him to bare his neck and submit. 

That sends a terrible ice coursing through him for just a moment. No alpha has  _ ever  _ growled at him like that before. No alpha has ever awakened this instinct. He’s never, not once, felt the urge - biological or not - to be submissive to anyone.

Yuri swallows his fear and fights his every natural reflex.

“Don’t you fucking touch me,” he growls right back. An omega’s growl perhaps doesn’t hold the same authority an alpha’s does, but it usually sends a message.

“Yuri…” the alpha says, voice a deep snarl and so laced with lust, it barely sounds human.

Yuri manages to get to his feet, and he turns to sprint from the room. Dizzy and hot, his surroundings spin around him. The kitchen light is on and streetlamps from outside shine into the living room for which he’s thankful. At least he can sort of see where he’s running.

But before he can reach the couch to shake Otabek awake, the alpha’s arms wrap around his torso, squeezing his arms to his sides. Yuri lets out an embarrassing shriek. Otabek doesn’t leap up like Yuri thinks he will. And the alpha at his back bends him over in the middle, and he can feel the stranger’s hardness pressing against his lower back. 

Yuri is ashamed of the rush of arousal that makes him wet all over again, though he knows it’s just biology. In his head, he doesn’t want anyone touching him. It’s just biology, and Yuri is the master of his own body.

The alpha’s lips graze the back of his neck, his shoulder, his pulsing artery.

“Don’t you dare!” Yuri snaps. “Let go of me!”

He’s not very heavy, but he dares to drop his weight anyway. The alpha doesn’t seem affected so Yuri kicks his heels back until he hits something that makes the alpha groan and drop him. He whirls around with speed he didn’t think he could be capable of during a heat.

And stops dead. Frozen.

Tanned skin, almond shaped eyes intensely dark, that adorably perfect undercut.

“B… Beka?”

Otabek is flushed in the face, mouth open and gasping, pupils blown impossibly wide and eyes clouded with lust, and a  _ very  _ obvious tent in his pyjamas. And that alpha scent...is coming from  _ him _ . 

But Otabek is a beta. He’s twenty-one. He’s a beta. Yuri  _ knows  _ he’s a beta. He’s smelled it before. From when Yuri first clocked eyes on him in Barcelona, he knew Otabek was a beta. And when Otabek rumbled in on his fucking rented Harley Davidson to save Yuri from rabid fans, Yuri clung so tightly at first that he would have easily smelled if Otabek was blocking a natural alpha scent.

And yet…

The man in front of him is an alpha, his scent so strong and poignant it suffocates, makes Yuri want to prostrate himself on his knees. His pheromones are unbridled, crazy, making them  _ both  _ dizzy. 

Yuri looks into his eyes and  _ knows  _ Otabek can’t control it. Knows that whatever is happening, Otabek has no idea what he’s doing. He’s never seen his friend like this. Has never seen  _ anyone  _ like this. Is this really what an alpha is like in a rut? He’s always thought they were just horror stories fed to omegas in order to keep them untouched until they’re bonded.

Otabek called Yuri’s name earlier. So it can’t be a case of confusion or memory loss. Beka still knows him. But Yuri doesn’t know how else to appeal to Otabek’s tranquility other than by reminding Otabek that it’s  _ Yuri  _ he’s attacking.

Yuri steps back but Otabek’s too quick to follow. He finds himself backed against a waist-high bookcase, the reeking alpha pressed hard against his front, flaring nose buried in the scent gland on his neck. Another involuntary, embarrassing flush of heat. Then Beka kisses and licks, and Yuri’s body aches for it, but his mind knows better. Otabek isn’t himself. Yuri is in  _ heat _ . They can’t. They  _ can’t _ . It doesn’t matter how many time’s Yuri’s secretly imagined it or dreamed it or thought about casually propositioning it to at least see his friend’s reaction.

It doesn’t matter. Right now, he doesn’t want it. He wants to spend his heat curled up in a safe place without anyone there to fuck him through it. He wants to find out what the hell is going on with Otabek.

“Beka,” Yuri tries, breathless as he pushes against his friend’s solid chest. “Beka, don’t.”

Otabek inhales deeply. Goosebumps rise on Yuri’s arms and up the back of his neck. He shivers, and it’s not entirely in fear.

“Smell...so good,” Otabek groans into Yuri’s neck. “I want… I want-”

A hot, wet tongue laving over his scent gland. Yuri’s eyes fall closed.

“Beka, you have to stop,” Yuri tries again. His voice has gone soft. “Please, I don’t want-”

Otabek is his friend, but if the Kazakh wakes up tomorrow with some bruises and he  _ hasn’t  _ done Yuri any harm, Yuri knows he won’t mind. And when he feels teeth on his neck and a hand furiously trying to rid him of his boxers, he knows he has to act.

So he thrusts his palm up into Beka’s chin, not a shove, but one hard hit that pushes through, then he smacks the corner of his phone up too. It has the desired effect: Otabek yelps and stumbles away, dazed. Yuri’s eyes dart to Viktor and Yuuri’s open bedroom door. They have an attached bathroom. The door locks.

His heat makes him shaky on his feet, but he sprints toward their room and bangs the bathroom door shut behind him, barely getting it locked when Otabek  _ slams  _ against it. Yuri jumps away, trips over a wet towel that’s been left on the tiled floor, and crashes to the floor. He bumps his head on the towel rack.

“Yuri, open the door!” Otabek snarls.

Yuri flinches, curled down against the towel rack. He doesn’t want to move, doesn’t even want to get up and turn the light on for fear his scent will waft over and make Otabek worse. But he also does. Otabek’s snarling, growling, and spitting - it’s like he’s trying to  _ command _ him. 

The Alpha Command is thought to be impossible these days. It’s hypothesised that it existed once, perhaps thousands of years ago in more primitive times. Some believe that a rare few can still do it. Can still force omegas to bend to their will. Yuri doesn’t. But Otabek’s voice...something in him desperately wants to do what he’s told.

A true flicker of fear bubbles in his belly.

“Beka, please calm down,” he calls. “Something’s wrong, you-”

“ _ Please _ , Yuri!” comes his desperate, muffled voice. One, two, three hard hits to the door. Yuri hopes the wood is more solid than it sounds. “Open the door! Open the door! I need-!”

Trembling, Yuri pulls up his last text message and clicks on Yuuri’s number. The phone rings and rings with no response. His heart pounds. He tries Viktor.

On the fifth ring-

“ _ Yuratchka! _ ” he slurs down the line, sounding happy and delirious. Club music thumps wildly in the background. “ _ You won’t believe what my Yuuri- _ ”

“Vitya.”

There’s a pause. Oh God, how his voice sounds small and pathetic.

“ _ Yuri, what’s wrong? _ ”

He bursts into tears. Knees to his chest on the floor of the dark bathroom, hearing Viktor’s voice it suddenly strikes him how afraid he really was. Is. Otabek doesn’t know what he’s doing. He could do  _ anything _ . Yuri’s lucky to be locked in the bathroom where it’s safe. Otabek would never forgive himself if he hurt Yuri, and Yuri… 

Yuri doesn’t know.

“Something’s wrong with Beka,” he sniffles down the line, not even able to feel embarrassed anymore. “H-He’s gone fucking nuts, he smells like an alpha, he’s trying to-” 

He can’t even say it. It’s clear what Otabek is trying to do. He doesn’t mean it, Otabek in his right frame of mind would never dream of trying to- 

“And...I’m in heat.”

Viktor is uttering urgent words to someone in the background, then he’s back, voice sharp and serious and suddenly a lot less drunk. “ _ Where are you _ ?”

“In the bathroom,” Yuri whispers, like he’s afraid Otabek will hear. “I locked the door. Viktor, he won’t listen to me, I’ve never seen anyone like this.”

“ _ It’s okay, _ ” Viktor says, and the sound of the club in the background goes silent. “ _ Stay in the bathroom ‘til Yuuri and I get there. We’ll deal with Otabek. We’re getting in a taxi now. Ten minutes. _ ”

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing, Viktor,” Yuri hastens to explain. “I can tell. So don’t- don’t  _ hurt  _ him.”

At that exact moment, there’s a much louder and sharper thud against the bathroom door. Yuri jumps, almost certain that Otabek has thrown a piece of furniture against the thing. Makkachin barks. For a second, Yuri is worried for her safety, but Otabek doesn’t seem interested in her - he’s back to pounding on the door with his fists and begging Yuri to open up.

“ _ Yuri, do not go anywhere near that door, do you hear me? _ ” VIktor orders down the line.

“Do you think I’m fucking stupid?”

“ _ I’m telling you to keep a clear head, _ ” Viktor says a little more gently. “ _ You’re in heat way too early and Otabek is suddenly acting crazy and smelling like an alpha. Something’s not right, and I want you to be careful _ .”

“I will be,” Yuri whispers, jerking back against the tiled wall when Otabek apparently kicks the door. His phone beeps in his ear. The battery is running low. “And you’ll hurry, yeah?”

“ _ Quick as a flash, _ ” Viktor says. “ _ I’m going to hang up. Save your battery. Stay in the bathroom. _ ”

When Viktor hangs up, Yuri clutches the phone like a lifeline. Otabek continues to bang on the door, his voice hoarse with his yelling, his begging, his demanding. Yuri shakes. This isn’t Otabek. He’d never do something like this. Otabek is a gentle soul dressed up in leather and and surrounded by sketchy friends.

Minutes pass. Otabek starts to quiet. He stops calling out. Eventually stops pounding on the door. Yuri sits there in a terrified silence, wondering if he left or exhausted himself and fell asleep.

Carefully, slowly, Yuri unlocks the bathroom door. He holds his breath. When Otabek doesn’t come barrelling through it, he pulls it open and steps cautiously into the bedroom. Makkachin is curled up on the bed, tail thumping happily. Beka isn’t in here but his scent is still strong. He must have passed out.

So Yuri creeps out of the bedroom and into the dark lounge, limping slightly as the cramps in his core seize him. He flicks on a lamp and the room is bathed in a soft yellow light. He glances around. Beka isn’t on the couch, he isn’t on the rug, he isn’t anywhere in sight. And Yuri is too afraid to sniff the air to find him.

He turns toward the open-plan kitchen, considering getting himself a drink of cold water, when his insides spasm tightly. He gasps out in pain, doubles over, his knees hit the soft carpet.

“Yuri!”

With a start that stiffens his whole body, Yuri whips his head around to the sound of Otabek’s voice. His neck cracks and a burning pain crawls up to the base of his skull.

Otabek stands by the doorway to Viktor and Yuuri’s room, like he was in there the whole time or was sitting by the door waiting. And somehow missed Yuri stumbling out.

The bigger man moves with purpose towards where Yuri is clutching his cramping stomach on the floor. Yuri manages to turn, knees drawn up to his chest, and puts his hand out in an effort to stop Otabek coming closer. The supposed alpha doesn’t even falter. 

Yuri doesn’t like spreading his scent all over the place. He’s  _ never  _ liked it, whether his scent is happy or otherwise. But instinct tugs at him, puts the idea in his head. So he doesn’t just release the smell of distress, he  _ forces  _ it from his body so violently that it practically explodes out of him. Only then does Otabek pause, confusion dancing in his dark eyes. He doesn’t pause for long. After a few moments, he starts again, moving slower this time. Gently. 

“Yuri,” he mutters.

Yuri tries to shuffle back, but a wave of weakness has turned his arms to jelly. “Stay away,” he hisses with no heat in it.

Otabek is there, crouching low at his side, his arms scooping Yuri up like he weighs nothing. And the contact eases the pain. Clumsily, like he’s not sure what he’s doing or like he’s not even sure he’s doing it, calming bursts emit from Otabek’s scent glands.

This is bad.

“Beka, put me down,” Yuri resists, slapping his shoulder lightly and squirming as much as his body allows. “Please, I-”

Otabek hushes him, and he falls silent. “It’s okay. It’s fine. It’s okay,” his friend babbles softly. “Not gonna hurt you. Just need- I just- I’ll take care of you. It’ll be okay.”

Yuri blushes from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. And whatever is going on with Otabek must sense Yuri’s comfort and arousal, because he lets out a deep, rumbling purr somewhere in his chest. Yuri struggles to remember why he should be fighting.

“Put me  _ down _ ,” he tries again, and this time Otabek allows it. He lets Yuri’s legs slide down until his toes touch the carpet but doesn’t move his arms from around his waist. If anything, the taller man pulls him closer, leaning in to take in the scent at Yuri’s neck. “Beka, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.”

The front door bursts open.

The snarl that bubbles in Otabek’s throat is terrifying. Yuri bares his neck automatically, whimpering quietly, but Beka isn’t focused on him for once. Instead, he’s glaring at Viktor and Yuuri, still growling, teeth bared. Like an animal. The couple in the doorway - glitter and eyeliner smeared down their shiny faces - freeze.

“Otabek-” Viktor starts.

But it’s the wrong thing to do. Otabek growls viciously, shoving Yuri away hard to face Viktor and Yuuri head on. Yuri stumbles into the wall, winded. Otabek’s crouched slightly, arms thrown wide in a stance that might be protective.

“ _ Back off _ !” Otabek warns them in that guttural, aggressive tone. “He’s  _ mine _ .”

Yuri’s knees go weak at the unbridled arousal that coils tight around his whole body. He sees nostrils flare and dilated pupils on him before Viktor and Yuuri glance at each other with twin expressions of worry or confusion.

“Otabek,” Yuuri tries, naturally softer-spoken than Viktor. “We’re not going to take Yuri. But-”

Viktor, stupidly, takes one tiny step forward. Otabek sounds like a fighting wolf. Lunges like he’s going to attack.

“Beka, stop!” Yuri calls without thinking.

And Otabek glances back at him, indecision swimming in his glassy eyes. His nostrils flare too as he sniffs Yuri’s scent in the air. His expression softens a tad and he looks scared and confused.

“What...is that smell?” he asks uncertainly.

“Yuri is afraid,” comes Katsuki’s soft voice, and Otabek whips around like he forgot the other two alphas are there. “You’re scaring him, Otabek. You need to calm down before you hurt him.”

“I’d never hurt my omega!” Beka snarls. “I just have to-”

“Yuri isn’t  _ yours _ ,” Yuuri says firmly. “You two aren’t bonded, and he doesn’t want to be.”

“He’s in heat, he needs-”

“What he needs is for you to calm down and give him some privacy. You’re his best friend, not his mate. Do you understand?” 

Yuuri’s voice remains steady and calm, but firm enough that Otabek seems to actually be listening. And while he talks, Viktor slinks quietly towards Yuri, wrapping his coat around Yuri’s shaking shoulders when he reaches him. The coat is almost unbearably dripping with Viktor’s alpha scent, but there’s a good reason for that. If it smells like another alpha has already claimed Yuri, Otabek might back off.

But Otabek turns to look at Yuri, as if to consider him, and rage burns in his eyes again at the sight of Viktor’s hands rubbing comfort into his arms. Yuri’s first instinct is to shrug Viktor off and go to soothe Otabek - an instinct that’s decidedly omega. He doesn’t. He sidles closer to Viktor, leaning into the taller Russian.

Otabek bares his teeth and attacks.

Yuri yelps in surprise but Viktor is already yanking him away. He catches a glimpse of Yuuri - soft, anxious Yuuri Katsuki - throwing his arm around Otabek’s neck in a solid chokehold and baring his own teeth. Aggressive, vicious snarling and snapping and growling fills the air. Makkachin whines and scampers to Yuri’s side from the bedroom as Viktor leads him away.

“Viktor,” Yuri says, teeth chattering. He’s suddenly cold. “They-”

“Don’t worry,” Viktor whispers. Pats Yuri affectionately on the back. “My Yuuri can handle Otabek. Let’s get you taken care of before we worry about Otabek.”

Sluggishness as a result of expending all that energy comes over him fast. He washes himself down in Viktor’s ensuite with tepid water at the sink, too shaky to shower. He dresses in borrowed pyjamas, then Viktor leads him back to the guest room. When they leave the little bathroom, Yuuri and Otabek are gone.

Viktor has stripped the bed and put on fresh sheets, plus some extra pillows and blankets for Yuri to arrange as he likes. Yuri is loathe to call this necessity a means for him to  _ nest _ , but he can’t deny that the extra bedding makes him feel more relaxed. He waits for Viktor to leave the room until he starts setting things up. By the time the alpha has returned, arms laden with bottled water and a few snacks, Yuri has organised the pillows into an upside-down V shape at the top of the bed and the blankets are thrown haphazardly in the crest of the inner point.

He feels his cheeks warm as Viktor sets about clearing space on the bedside table for the water. Having someone fuss is embarrassing enough without it being Viktor, and without the circumstances being what they are.

“I’ll call your grandpa in the morning if you’re not feeling up to it,” Viktor says, as if he’s not dithering around an omega in heat. “Are you okay?”

“Where’s Beka? What’s happening to him?”

Viktor sighs and sits on the bed. Another alpha might not get away with sitting so close to Yuri’s arrangement of blankets and pillows (he is  _ not  _ calling it a  _ nest _ ), but Viktor is practically family, and somehow even Yuri’s instincts sense that.

“Yuuri took him outside after he calmed him down a little,” Viktor explains. “But they won’t be coming back in here. Otabek is… He’s rutting, Yuri.”

Yuri feels his eyes widen. “So he  _ is  _ an alpha.”

“So it would seem.”

“But how? He’s always been a beta,” Yuri insists.

“Unless he was lying.”

“Beka isn’t a liar,” Yuri snaps back instantly. “And he’d never do anything like this on purpose. He… He must not have known. Somehow.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Viktor admits. “But with Otabek suddenly an alpha in a rut, and you being in heat this early… I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to guess. We’ll get to the bottom of it, though. In the meantime, you need to relax and not worry about him. Yuuri will take care of him, and I’m here to take care of you.”

Yuri bites his tongue, wanting desperately to argue and demand answers, demand that Viktor bring Otabek back up. Whether that’s because he wants to know if his friend is okay, or because the thought of them together is sending coils of electric heat twisting behind his navel, he doesn’t know.

But he’s exhausted. So he nods at Viktor, curling down into the V of his pillows, intent on sleeping some more before sunrise.

“Fine. And...thanks. For coming back so quick, and...fucking hell, you know!”

Viktor’s smile is warm as he pats Yuri’s calf affectionately. “You’re welcome, kitten.”

Yuri  _ bristles  _ at that nickname and kicks Viktor’s hand away. “Don’t push your luck.”

Viktor chuckles gently before getting up and heading for the door. He pauses when the door is half shut, peeking back in.

“In case you want that box under my bed I mentioned earlier, I-”

Yuri launches a bottle of water at him, and it crashes hard against the door when Viktor hurriedly slams it shut. Face red, Yuri buries himself deep in the pillows and fights the urge to chase Viktor and hit him for real. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Otabek. Sudden second puberty can be an emotional thing. Especially when it makes you desperately wanna have sex with your best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave comments :D


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